Imperius Dominatus
by Philip Asher
Summary: The foul legions of Death Guard have launched an assault on Urliam Secundus to recover a lost artifact. The Guardsmen of the 31st Urliam Regiment, however will see to it that these heretics be purged from Imperial space
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**Urliam Secundus, Ultima Segmentum**

A Fury Interceptor floated amidst hundreds more while escorting their mothership, the enormous Emperor-class battleship _Hammer of Dawn_, down to Urliam Secundus' orbital dock for repairs. It was piloted by 2nd Lieutenant Nathaniel Hawkins, a mere pawn of the Imperium. Hawkins, however, believed otherwise, despite the propaganda showing the Emperor's favor of the low and humble; he believed that he would one day command that mothership, _Hammer of Dawn._

Hawkins was only 22, and he was already commander of his wing of twenty Furies, so this proposition wasn't completely out of reach. However, as there were contenders coming from worlds as even the ultimate forge world of Mars, difficulties would soon set in. The second lieutenant was still determined, though, and he would one day prove to his superiors that he was a worthy candidate.

Static crackled through the vox speaker in the cockpit, jolting Hawkins from his daydreaming.

"Wing Primus, come about to point one-two-zero-zero," said a techpriest aboard the mothership. "Prepare for landing."

"Aye, coming about," Hawkins replied, flipping switches on his vox unit to wing communication. Punching a few more buttons, he relayed the message, and acknowledgement lights winked soon after. He turned his flight stick to the right, pulling closer to the _Hammer of Dawn_'s hangar bays and a glance to the rear showed all nineteen of his comrades mimicking the maneuver with expert precision.

"Good work, everyone," he reassured to his wing over the vox, "Just a little more and the _Dawn_'ll be finished docking, and then we'll get some well-needed rest." More acknowledgement lights winked happily, flashing eagerly at the idea of food and sleep.

* * *

The spaceport on Urliam Secundus was bustling with activity, even in the dead of night. Guardsmen dashed across the outer walls to the airpads, eager to leave the spaceport to the new shipment of relief troops from the _Hammer of Dawn_, and the techpriests and servitors of the Adeptus Mechanicus were hard at work at their stations, making sure all the preparations were precise.

Kevus of the Death Guard, meanwhile, was leading his squad of ten plague marines closer and closer to the outer perimeter of the spaceport, careful to avoid the Guardsmen still watching from the bastions. Now they were within a hundred meters of the outer wall, hiding behind the cover of boulders in the cold sand.

"Hold here," he whispered to his men. "I'm going ahead to scout out the emplacements." The plague marines nodded in unison and took up positions around the area, ready to assist their leader if anything went awry.

Kevus headed out from behind cover at a belly crawl, his pale green armor scraping the sand as he went. Looking ahead, he could see only open ground until a moat some twenty meters wide stretched along the perimeter of the wall, and a single gate and bridge was located in the center of the wall ahead of them. Huge bastions jutted from the wall to the left and right of the gate, as well, creating a lethal crossfire for any trying to cross.

Despite these obstacles, however, Kevus was of the Death Guard, and he knew that so long as Nurgle held favor with him, he would live. In light of this, he kept moving forward, crawling ever so slowly to evade detection.

After several minutes, Kevus had reached the moat and motioned for his squad to follow. Runes flashed inside Kevus' helmet in acknowledgement, and the marines began to crawl prone to the moat. They worked diligently to remain undetected, pausing for every moment when a sentry turned to watch over the perimeter.

Finally, after an hour of the entire squad working their way individually to the edge of the moat, the ten marines of the Death Guard consolidated and slid down into the water. The two bastions flanking the gate still looked over them with an ominous glare, heavy bolters and lascannons ready to annihilate their flesh and mutilate their corpses.

Kevus motioned to his marines to move up with him through the water directly under the bridge. As they worked their way further into the moat, their Nurgle-tainted suits hissed angrily; the Dark Gods were displeased with the covert operation. They wanted a full-on assault to appease their thirsts for blood and death.

The Death Guard marines immediately bowed their heads praying to Nurgle for mercy, but found none as heavy bolter rounds began pouring onto the bridge; the Guardsmen had found the plague marines.

"Stand fast, marines," Kevus said, "Hold position while I place a beacon for a bombardment. Despite the gods' distrust in us, Nurgle will be pleased with the outcome of all this." The marines nodded, grinned in anticipation, and resumed chanting tainted prayers to appease the dark gods.

Kevus reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a dark orb, which was pulsating with a sickly green glow. He slammed his empty fist into the water, hissing more steam and splashing water up onto the underside of the bridge, which was beginning to thin from the beating bolts from the bastions. Kevus then thrust the orb into the pit and nodded again to his squad.

After the nine marines nodded in return, Kevus pulled out a hand-held teleport homer from his belt. He punched in a code to the fleshy buttons, and within seconds the ten Death Guards vanished from Urliam Secundus' surface as the rounds from the bastions penetrated the bridge.

* * *

"What?!" Hawkins cried, looking at the new order flashing on his pict-slate in his cockpit. "Why in the Emperor's name is there a Chaos ship in space around here?!"

He and the rest of his wing swung from their landing maneuvers around to meet the new threat. It had just emerged from behind the planet, and Hawkins was surprised he hadn't noticed it earlier. It was a desecrated Battle Barge, the largest Space Marine vessel in the entire Imperial fleet. It bristled with thousands of turrets, and immense planet-bombarding cannons, which he noticed were emanating golden particles of some sort, then the revelation hit him.

"Damn them!" he bellowed through his vox-unit. "They're going to fire on the-" Hawkins was cut off as the Death Guard battle barge _Eternal Decay_ opened fire on all sides. Hawkins and all the other wings were disoriented, some even obliterated, by missile barrages, and the once charging cannons unleashed all their firepower onto the surface of Urliam Secundus in a magnificent hail of fiery red bolts.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Urliam Secundus, Ultima Segmentum**

The sky over the Urliam Secundus Spaceport bled with raw crimson power as the bombardment hit its target with alarming strength. Docking bays and heavy machinery were obliterated immediately, and the immense fortress-like perimeter was disintegrated in seconds following, the fiery energies of chaos dismantling the order of Imperial architecture.

All of the inhabitants were silenced in an instant, their feeble cries cut off by the constant roar of the lasers' destruction.

Meanwhile, the _Hammer of Dawn_ watched helplessly from the orbital dock; its weapon systems were undergoing maintenance by the techpriests aboard the satellite. The interceptors launched to engage _Eternal Decay_ were powerless, too. The barrage of missiles left the bulk of the squadrons in tatters, and the remains were fleeing back to the orbital dock.

A few minutes passed, and the bombardment was finally over. The Death Guard battle barge's engines roared to life, and, as a warp portal opened in a revolting purple vortex, it sped forward and vanished without a trace.

* * *

2nd Lieutenant Nathaniel Hawkins woke from unconsciousness with a start, shaking his head to clear his mind. He looked around his cockpit for a moment, checking that all his systems were functional after the barrage of missiles.

Satisfied that his fighter was still intact, Hawkins gunned away with other Furies from the recently departed Chaos ship towards the hangar bays on the _Hammer of Dawn_. He checked all his scanners and vox-channels for remaining Wing Primus members but found none as his interceptor banked into landing maneuvers with the autopilot.

"Wing Primus, respond!" he repeated into the vox-unit. "Come in! Septim! Charter! Anyone, respond!" His watery eyes finally gave into tears, and he began to sob as his Fury entered the artificial atmosphere of the _Dawn._

As servitors and techpriests came out from their stations to greet the incoming fighter, Hawkins popped the canopy and leapt out himself, landing hard on the steel grating. He didn't care about the techpriest's weak attempt to stop him. He ignored other Furies flying in as he strode across the wide hangar to the airlock, and he stepped through the security check as quickly as his legs could take him.

Passing technicians and security officers became nothing but blurs, and the hard edges of the corridor's architecture became soft as tears distorted his vision. In a matter of seconds, all nineteen of his closest friends in all the Imperium had been killed, or worse, lost in the immaterium of the Warp.

He finally made it to his wing's quarters, and he yanked the lever to release the heavy steel door. Near-blinding light shone through the threshold, and Hawkins had to shield his eyes to adjust, wiping the tears away in the process. As his sight recovered, his spirit remained in tatters; the room was empty. Twenty empty bunks lined the walls, and upon checking the pict-recorder's captured video, Hawkins had been the first to enter since the incident with _Eternal Decay_.

Breaking down to his knees, Hawkins cried out once more. Tears left trails down his cheeks, and his chest quaked with each sob. For the first time in Hawkins' career as an Imperial pilot, he knew the reality of war.

* * *

Aboard _Eternal Decay _in a narrow chapel, Kevus bowed with his nine other squad members to Chaos Lord Juurich, who was adorned in a vast pale green Terminator suit with pustules oozing acidic puss of Nurgle, and the stench would have killed any normal human.

"You have done well," Juurich said in a low, booming voice. "The weak troops of the Corpse-Emperor have been rocked to their core because of your masterful work, and the spilt blood has appeased the dark gods of Chaos." He turned around and pointed to a large eight-pointed cross. "Do you know what this is?" he asked the marines, not looking back.

"It is the symbol of Chaos, my Lord," one of them said, kneeling as he spoke to Juurich. "The symbol of truth."

"Yes," Juurich replied, "and no…" He paused and spread his arms wide, seeming to bask in the icon's glorious powers.

A sick green aura burst forth in a dark light from the Lord's figure, and it soared into the center of the cross, opening an empty meter-wide circle, a socket with ancient ports and markings.

Juurich released the last of the aura and let his arms fall limp to his side, hitting the near-organic suit with a gush of slime. He dropped to a knee for a moment, regaining strength, and his men knelt with him, careful to never be higher than their commander.

The Lord exhaled and got to his feet again, saying, "That is the Master Warp Drive to this ship. It would allow this grand vessel to traverse the great powers of the Warp in an instant, making travel to other galaxies as short as a trip to the moon from its mother planet. There is still a crucial component we are missing, however." He turned to Kevus and his men, who stayed at their knees. "And I want you ten to get it from the weak humans devoted to their False Emperor."

* * *

Hawkins was still whimpering and wiping his tearful eyes as he stepped to the airlock. A techpriest was standing on the other side of the threshold.

"You are to come with me," he said.

Hawkins nodded weakly and shuffled along behind the adept, sniffling down the dank corridor.

After a number of twists and turns, the pair reached the airlock leading to the bridge itself.

"What are we doing here?" Hawkins asked, slowly regaining composure.

The techpriest gave no reply, waving his cog-bladed power axe forward to push him on into the bridge. Hawkins stumbled forward through the airlock, steam hissing in his face, and he found himself face-to-face with the commander of the _Dawn_ himself, Captain Lorne Mancurion.

Mancurion was an average person. His height was that of most, and his muscles were built and defined. His face was scarred from countless battles, and his disposition was brutal and resolute.

"Is your name Nathaniel Umbridge Hawkins?" he asked, his gaze piercing through Hawkins' watery eyes.

"Y-yes," Hawkins stammered back, shuddering in fear.

"And your designation code, is it A-N-four-zero-seven?"

Hawkins nodded quickly.

"Then why," he began, piercing through Hawkins' very soul now, "were you not at the debriefing two hours ago in block A-A-one?"

Then it all came back to Nathaniel Umbridge Hawkins.

* * *

"It has been branded as a heretical piece of equipment by the human's Inquisition, but it is much more meaningful to us, the followers of Nurgle. We call it the Eye of the Warp, and rightfully so." Juurich, the Death Guard Lord, looked back to the eight-way cross, eyeing the empty socket with a morbid sense of lust. "Once placed inside that port, the Eye will show us all knowledge Nurgle meant for us. Truth beyond that of Khorne, of Tzeentch, of any dark god. Nurgle will show us all of the Warp, universe, and future. It's also..." Juurich paused, turning back once again to his marines. "...the Eye of the Warp is the eye of Nurgle himself." The Chaos Lord laughed in anticipation of such an idea, his menacing tone echoing throughout the entire vessel.

"But do you really mean, Lord Juurich, _his_ Eye?" Kevus asked, his eyes wide through the visor of his helm.

"Yes, young Kevus, I do." Juurich laughed again.

"Well then, where is it?" another marine asked, his body shaking with unbridled desire for the artifact.

"In the spaceport..."

* * *

"You mean they're not dead?" Hawkins asked Mancurion, jittering in happiness as a child would.

"No, they had all reported in at the debriefing, but my advisors agree that it may suit you to visit our infirmary for a checkup. It would do your worn mind well."

"Of course not!" Hawkins was so ecstatic that he had been forgetting to address Mancurion as a superior, and this last remark landed him a smash to the face. Hawkins reeled under the impact, and security officers stepped forward from their posts, four in total, to break up the starting brawl.

The captain waved them off, and they reluctantly stepped back. Hawkins shook his head, recovering from the impact, and tried to step forward again to retaliate, but the scars on Mancurion's face weren't just decoration; he had experience, much more than Hawkins.

Already he was on him, whittling away at Hawkins' diminished stamina with techniques known only to the sacred Death Cult and Vindicaire adepts. Pressure points ached and muscles grew weak as Hawkins was slowly picked apart by the captain.

After a final blow to the chest, Hawkins could take it no longer and fell to his back, breathless, exhausted, and thoroughly defeated.

"You win, sir..." he wheezed, his nose bloodied and face bruised.

"That's better, soldier. Now off to the infirmary..."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Warp Current, Urliam Secundus, Ultima Segmentum**

"The spaceport?!" Kevus bellowed in rage. "It's burnt to hell! Not even Nurgle himself could bring the remnants to life again!" A sharp psychic spear plunged into Kevus' mind at this statement, and he crumpled to the steel floor, writhing and crying in agony. Juurich stepped forward, keeping the mental shackles on Kevus, and knelt to look him in the eye.

"None shall degrade the abilities of our Father," he whispered and released the curse.

Exhaling immediately, Kevus fell flat on his chest to the floor. "Yes, lord, forgive me," he gasped. His armor wriggled in happiness at their wearer's punishment.

Juurich stepped back to face them all and continued, "The Eye is in the spaceport. Although our batteries may have pummeled the fortress into oblivion, there are still tunnels intact, thousands of them. The Imperials knew that such an artifact would be invaluable to Chaos or Xenos, so they buried it, far below what an orbital scan or bombardment could reach."

The ten marines sighed to themselves in relief, and one finally asked, "So what is our course of action, lord?"

"I've been thinking of that myself, but after searching the Warp and surrounding space, it seems that this planet – Urliam Secundus, as the Imperials call it – is completely cut off from support by at least three weeks. If we eliminate that docked ship, the _Hammer of Dawn_, then the Eye will be ours for the taking as easily as Nurgle could bring a single soul back from the grave."

* * *

Nathaniel Hawkins woke at 7 o'clock in the morning, according to the ship's time cycle, in the infirmary. His chest was wrapped in bandages, and psyk-probes were poked into his skin at every pressure point to relieve the wounds inflicted by the Death Cult techniques of the captain.

He looked around the pure white room and found no familiar companions among the twenty men who lay asleep. Despite this, Hawkins was optimistic, remembering the times he spent with his nineteen wingmen, and knowing that the happiness would continue made it all the better.

Suddenly, the airlock opened with a hiss, and Samael Charter, Hawkins' main wingman, stepped in with a slew of medi-servitors, their whirring tracks grinding them to other men's beds. Charter stepped up to Hawkins.

"You really got lost, didn't you?" Charter laughed.

Hawkins narrowed his eyes.

"Right, sorry." He cleared his throat and pulled a data-slate from his jacket. Punching in a code to the screen, he handed it to Hawkins. "This is the review of the tactics we received of the Chaos ship from debriefing."

Hawkins looked over it, and after awhile, Hawkins finally piped up, "This is the work of the Death Guard."

"What?" Charter sat dumbfounded. "How do you know that?"

"Plague torpedoes. They were launched both at the spaceport and us, in the fighters. That must explain my condition. But you guys are lucky they only shot about twenty of them…"

"Wait, slow down!" Hawkins' companion seemed exasperated, "How do you know those torpedoes were plague variants?"

"The trails they left! See?" He pointed to the data-slate in specific areas, but Charter just rocked back on his chair, exhaling in fatigue.

"I guess the captain wasn't joking when he said you were good…"

"What? The captain said what about me?" Hawkins asked, looking up from the screen.

Charter just ran out of the room, nearly taking a medi-servitor with him, as he realized what he had said.

* * *

Cultists milled about the bridge on _Eternal Decay_, adjusting warp drive systems for a re-entry to material space above Urliam Secundus. Tainted servitors sat inanimate at stations, connected by immense cables to even larger machines, and the occaisional Traitor Marine stepped among them, filtering out any attempt to sabotage the vessel.

An airlock opened, and a draft of demise blew in, alerting the Marines to the new presence. Lord Juurich stepped in, and everyone that had knees knelt, but Juurich simply waved them back to their stations.

"We have business to attend to immediately," he stated, looking out over the rows of stations. "The human ship _Hammer of Dawn_ is docked, immobile and defenseless. We're going to destroy it before it can be repaired or brought to battle-ready status. Once this feat has been met, the true task may be taken in full force."

One of the marines serving guard stepped up, knelt, and reported in. "All preparations are complete, and the ship is ready to enter material space broadsiding the _Dawn_ on your word."

"Do it," Juurich ordered, sending the sentry off to the lead astropath.

After a few seconds, the astropath nodded to the marine and then Juurich.

With a sudden jerk that tumbled some to the steel grating, the _Eternal Decay_ entered space just two kilometers from the Imperial battleship, just a hair's breadth in relative terms. A moment later, every battery on the right side of the _Decay_ unleashed their payload across the void, impacting and causing thousands of explosions to ripple across the hull. Void shields flickered and failed in some places, and in those breaches, precision lances fired, detonating fuel and munitions just inside the adamantium hull.

Meager defense satellites turned their batteries on the Death Guard's barge but were soon silenced by intercepting fighters, their lascannons shredding through the pitiful orbiting turrets.

"Keep up the bombardment, gunners," Juurich boomed across the bridge. "Stop on my word and then launch the boarding craft."

* * *

"Move, move!" Hawkins yelled to the servitors, who mindlessly shuffled along programmed. Imperial technicians obviously weren't expecting a situation like this. Hawkins awkwardly pulled on his pilot jumpsuit as he ran to the hangar, and he ignored the robotic pleas of the medi-servitors to remain in the infirmary.

Blaring warning vox-casters filled the air with their shrieks, and crimson glow-strips glared down onto the steel floor, reflecting and casting a blood-red tint over everything. As Hawkins ran past quarters, he saw every door indicator read vacant. He just pushed himself harder, and before long, he reached the hangar, where hell reigned over all else.

Pilots were frantically trying to launch, but techpriests were adamant that their ships were not ready, stating that the previous engagement, the bombardment on the spaceport, had left many craft below operating status. Instead, they suggested the dropships, which were shuttling the 31st regiment of the Urliam Imperial Guard, were much better.

Just outside, more bombardment came, rattling the entire vessel.

Among the chaos, however, Hawkins spotted Samael Charter gathering Wing Primus together, obviously waiting for their commander. He reached them and reassured his wingmen that he had recovered.

"If I'm still weak, then how in the Emperor's name could I have gotten here?" Hawkins asked them.

Laughter and grins were their response, a light in the abyss to Hawkins.

"Okay, then," he continued, "let's show these Traitor Marines how the men of the Imperial Navy treat heretics!"

The response now was a roar of approval by all nineteen pilots, and they all rushed to their Fury interceptors, bypassing the pleading techpriests. In a thunderous boom, Wing Primus entered the fray to save their dying ship.

* * *

"Lord," one of the guards relayed from the mute servitor, "this one reports resistance from the hangar bays. Interceptors are eliminating the fighters we sent, and some are even heading for our ship."

"It is of no concern." Juurich grinned in his Terminator armor, finding the humans' futile attempts of heroism amusing. "Let them come closer, if they dare, and focus blast weaponry on them. Try to take multiple interceptors at a time to weaken their morale."

He knew how the humans felt, how they strove to see the Emperor's light, but after Juurich had seen the truth of it all, he realized how pointless his single life was in the grand scheme of the universe; this wing assaulting the _Eternal Decay_ embodied that idea. Nurgle seemed to call to him from the ranks of the Blood Angels chapter of Space Marines, allowing him perpetual life to see the end of time, despite the many diseases that plagued the marines of the Death Guard for eternity.

Suddenly, Juurich's Terminator suit bleeped, and he pulled out his pict-vox unit. Kevus showed on its screen, helmeted head bowing to his Lord.

"What's the situation, Kevus?" Juurich asked.

"There is no problem, Lord," Kevus replied, "but my squad grows impatient, I apologize a thousand times over…"

The Terminator Lord chuckled. "There is no need for apology. Your men are anxious to bloody their hands; I commend them for it." He paused to glance to a servitor, who nodded, signifying that the launch area was clear. "You may launch when you're ready, Kevus. Remember your objective and place it at top priority."

"I will, my Lord, thank you. For Nurgle…"

"And all his children."

The pict-vox faded to black, and Juurich looked up to a viewscreen showing a tank-sized assault boat jettisoning towards the _Dawn_, who was beginning to leak fuel and air, flames licking around its surface.

* * *

The interior of the Viruso-class boarding craft was dimly lit with a single green bulb, its sick green light barely reaching the outer walls. All ten of the marines sat on the edge seats, each checking and rechecking bolters and chainswords, praying to Nurgle, and walking through the battleplan in their minds countlessly.

The pilot in the forward cockpit pushed the boat to its limits, throttling to the maximum, even using a hint of psychic power to coax the engines into putting out more thrust. Remnant fighter wings buzzed above and below them, attempting to save the _Dawn_. Some of them tried to intercept their assault boat, but the countless turrets on the _Eternal Decay_ were easily able to pick them off, hurling their flaming adamantium carcasses down into the atmosphere of Urliam Secundus.

A winking light flashed inside the troop compartment, signaling the coming impact with the Imperial battleship. The marines gripped their weapons and braced themselves. With a jolt, the boat collided against the hull of the _Dawn_, passing through the disabled void shield with ease. Demolition charges blew, and the ten Death Guard marines stormed the breach.

Two dozen naval security troopers, each fitted with an Arbites suit and hellgun, were waiting at an intersection of corridors behind the corners and makeshift barricades comprised of steel crates and sheet adamantium. They unleashed a relentless hail of lasbolts at first sight, ripping through one of Kevus' marines in an explosion of blood and gore.

The remaining nine surged forward, unloading bolters and pistols as they ran. Plague-infested bolts melted through the makeshift defenses, Warp-spawned acids hissing as the rounds penetrated the unfortunate troopers behind. In seconds the Death Guards were in close combat, shredding through the plates on the Imperials with mighty chainblades.

In a matter of seconds, every arbites trooper was dead save the lone sergeant of the squad, a veteran armed with a hellpistol and a power saber, who was hiding just beyond a corner. Kevus motioned to the squad to stay back; this human was his.

He stepped forward towards the intersection, heavy adamantium boots crunching on the steel grating floor. The sergeant could be heard breathing heavily, obviously anticipating his terrible death.

Suddenly, Kevus issued a mighty battlecry and charged around the corner, chainsword chattering wildly in his armored gauntlet. The sergeant, however, yelled back and dived forward between the Death Guard's legs, missing Kevus' swing by millimeters. He unloaded his hellpistol up into the marine's leg, and it yelped as a flurry of las-bolts ate through the armor.

With a thrust of his adamantium boot, Kevus stomped down, attempting to crush the arbites in one fell swoop. The sergeant was still quick, though, and he was already on his feet behind the traitor marine. He charged forward, power saber vibrating with strength, and plunged into Kevus' backpack, power coils erupting in a plume of green smoke.

Kevus roared in anger and swung back with his chainsword, just missing the sergeant's head, who immediately ducked and rolled forward in front of Kevus; this was his last mistake. The Death Guard saw the opportunity and dove forward onto his chest, crushing the sergeant under the sheer magnitude of the power armor.

A moment later, all was quiet. Blood and chunks of human flesh were scattered throughout the hall, and the mutilated corpses lay on the cold, steel floor, decomposing at an alarming rate; Nurgle was pleased and had manifested himself in the stench emanating from the marines' suits. The nine grinned under their helmets as the carcasses shriveled to a wrinkled pile of tissue.

Charging down the corridor, they gunned down a group of fleeing technicians, running in terror from the death approaching them. Onward they went, eliminating more feeble humans, and in five minutes, they had reached the main reactor for the _Dawn'_s engines.

Kevus unclipped a pouch and removed a small, green sphere.

"Stand back," he said, readying the bomb.


End file.
